


friday's child

by mardia



Category: Emily of New Moon - L. M. Montgomery
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26435074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: An AU where Ilse never finds out about Perry's car accident, and so she marries Teddy Kent. Perry/Emily.
Relationships: Ilse Burnley/Teddy Kent, Perry Miller/Emily Byrd Starr
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> whew, where to even begin. I've loved this series since I was a kid, but rereading the third book gets me more frustrated each and every time, and so finally in this hellyear of 2020 I finally broke and decided to write the Perry/Emily story of my heart that tiny!me really wanted all along.

The first visitor that Perry had after the car accident was Emily Starr, rushing into the hospital room in her bridesmaid’s dress still, breathless and white-faced. 

“Oh, Perry!”

Despite his swollen and bruised face, Perry tried to smile reassuringly at her. “‘Lo, Emily.”

Emily had a hand clutched at her chest, her eyes wide, and Perry tried to make a joke of it. “Well, I knew my face was banged up, but the nurses didn’t tell me it was _this_ bad--”

“Don’t you dare joke!” Emily said indignantly. “We’d gotten word you were close to _death_ \--I had the devil of a time keeping it quiet at the wedding so as not to spoil things, and I had to coax Cousin Robert into driving me here--”

There was an edge of hysteria in her voice--cool and collected Emily, hysteric!--and Perry said quickly, “Here now, I didn’t mean to make fun--but I’m really all right, Emily, the doctor promises me so.”

Emily didn’t seem that comforted by this, but she consented to sit down in a visitor’s chair by Perry’s bed, and she began to interrogate him over the accident--never mind that Perry had been unconscious for most of the aftermath and could hardly remember the rest, Emily was as relentless as any lawyer of the bar grilling an uncooperative witness.

Perry held up under this assault as best as he could, but finally at Emily’s scolds over driving “that wretched automobile” at speeds no human was ever meant to go at, desperately tried to change the subject by asking, “Well, don’t keep me in suspense, how did the wedding go?”

Emily’s expression grew taut. “It went well,” she said, briefly. 

Perry tried to lift his eyebrow at this short answer, as it was currently recovering from the cut through it, that didn’t work too well. “What, no details for me? I’m rather sorry I missed out on the fun, I’m sure it was a grand affair worthy of the Burnley and Murray clans.”

“Oh, it was quite lovely indeed,” Emily said, staring down at her hands, clasped together in the frothy blue of her dress--Emily looked beautiful in it, of course, the color setting off her hair and her pallor marvelously. “Ilse was beautiful, the ceremony was lovely--they’ll be off on their honeymoon any moment now, I’m sure.” She swallowed, and said again, “They’re off on their honeymoon, and it’s over. It’s over and he’s hers.”

“Emily?” Perry said, cautiously. 

Emily turned to look at him, her expression blank, but her eyes--her eyes were full of torment, swimming in tears that began to slide down her pale, drawn cheeks--how had Perry not seen Emily’s misery before now? It was written all over her face, clear as a picture if only someone bothered to look--

“Emily, my dear girl, what--” Perry tried to sit forward and got a howling protest from his cracked ribs for that, so he sank back into the pillows reluctantly, but reached out to Emily, who had turned away from him, her hands hiding her face but her shoulders shaking unmistakably. “Oh, Emily, please--please tell me.”

For half a wild second, Perry was so bewildered that he wondered if this was somehow sour grapes over Ilse being the first to get married out of the two of them, but that was never Emily to be jealous over something as small as that, and she’d had enough chances herself---

And then Perry realized, and his heart sank with sympathy. “Emily.”

Emily flinched from his voice, from the knowledge in it. But Perry, from the same instinct that served him so well in a courtroom, Perry didn’t hesitate, but pressed on, as gently as he could. 

“Emily, have you cared for Teddy Kent all this time?”

Emily’s shoulders hunched, but she finally turned to look at him, her face stained with tears, features still drawn from the strain--a heavier strain, Perry was willing to bet, than anyone knew she was carrying. “Ah, hell.”

Emily didn’t tell him not to swear, just shook her head and said dully, “It’s not--I’ve been such a fool, Perry, please don’t think you should feel sorry for me--”

“Sorry!” Perry said indignantly. “Emily Starr, do I look such a fool as to feel _sorry_ for you?” That caught Emily short, and it gave Perry enough time to say what needed to be said. “Why, Emily, I’m _worried_ \--it looks as though you’ve been caught in a vice for who knows how long, and I bet you haven’t told a single soul about it.”

Emily grimaced at this, but didn’t argue his point. 

“And you,” Perry continued, his voice rising as he grew more indignant, “You’ve been working yourself to the bone, as the maid of honor, suffering in silence all this time--”

“Don’t make me into a martyr, Perry,” Emily said. 

“Stop making yourself a martyr, and I won’t have to!” Perry retorted. “Of all the pure Murray cussedness!”

Emily choked, then began to laugh, and Perry watched with an aching throat as she finally began to weep once more. 

“Emily,” he said, reaching out a hand futilely, “Please talk to me.”

Emily sniffed and looked at his battered, unlovely hand, and then she sighed, and rested her cool slim fingers in his, as she told him everything. 

By the end of the short, miserable tale, Perry was filled with the urge to shake someone, and Mrs. Kent was at the top of his list. “That woman deserves to be shaken until her bones rattle,” he swore out loud. 

“Don’t be too angry with her, Perry,” Emily said, to Perry’s amazement.

“Too angry! Emily, that woman has been a blight on her son’s life, and yours!”

“She wasn’t in her right mind,” Emily said wearily. “And she never made Teddy propose to Ilse, or made Ilse accept him.”

Perry fell silent, because even he couldn’t argue with that. “And you’re not angry with her? Truly?”

Emily hesitated, then let out a long sigh. “Should I hold the grudge next to my heart for the rest of my life? Be spiteful, full of hatred? Would that be justice, Perry?”

Put like that...it was a future he could never wish for Emily. Perry looked down at her slim hand and asked, abruptly, “Are you sorry I know?”

“No,” Emily said slowly, as if she was surprised by it herself. “No, I’m...relieved. To be here, at the end of it all, and not to be alone...it’s a relief to me, Perry.” She met his gaze and asked, levelly, “And do you pity me? You shouldn’t.”

“Pity you?” Perry asked, in disbelief. “Emily Starr, I’m...I’m _awed_ by you.” As Emily’s mouth trembled, Perry lifted her hand up, and kissed her fingers. 

When Emily finally spoke, her mouth was still trembling, but her voice held the old Murray ironic twist as she said, “You’ve become quite the courtly gentleman, Perry Miller.”

“Well, I do aim to please,” Perry said, daring to smile, and to his amazement, Emily smiled back at him, tremulous but still there. She clucked at herself, wiping at her damp cheeks as she tried to put herself back together, and Perry said fretfully, “I’d offer you my handkerchief but I’m blessed if I know where they put my suit.”

Emily laughed at this, but turned a remorseful face to him. “Perry, I’ve been a selfish beast, burdening you with--”

“None of that,” Perry said hastily. “Emily Starr, you were bound to, to overflow at some point. Better with me than, oh, I don’t know, with your aunts at New Moon.” That struck Emily, as her expression was a picture at the idea. “And you know I won’t breathe a word of it, to anyone.”

“I know,” Emily said. “I know and I...oh Perry. I’m so _thankful_ you’re all right.”

“Me too,” Perry said, grinning back at her, his aches and bruises somehow not feeling quite so awful as Emily smiled back at him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perry Miller makes a great hype man.

“Another visit back home, hmm?” Mr. Abel said at the end of the week.

“Yes, just a quick one,” Perry said, putting his desk back into order. 

Mr. Abel looked at him over his glasses, smiling in that benevolent way of his. “Visiting anyone in particular?”

“No,” Perry said too quickly, then had to amend it. “Well, yes, I’ll see some friends of course.” 

Mr. Abel looked as though he wanted to laugh, but thankfully didn’t. “Well,” he said, in that genial tone that made Perry feel as though he was a wet-behind-the-ears law clerk again, rather than a partner at the same firm, “Give my best to your friends.” He turned as if to go, and then paused in the doorway to add, “And you know, Perry, any friend of yours is welcome to dinner at our table. Rebecca would be terribly cross if I didn’t mention that.”

He slipped out of the office before Perry could make another denial; Perry sighed and turned back to setting his desk right. He’d forgotten how easily news travelled between Charlottetown and Blair Water. Any gossips would notice that he was visiting New Moon regularly, visiting Emily regularly, in the three months since his accident and would immediately assume that Perry Miller was making another go at winning Emily Starr over. 

Some haven’t been as subtle as Mr. Abel in asking about it. “Ah, so you’ll be making a proper run of it this time?” Old Kelly had asked Perry the last time he was in Blair Water, with a horribly familiar wink. “Well, I wish you all the luck, m’boy--you’ll need it, trying to win over one of the Murrays!”

And that was the worst of it, of course, but it wasn’t all of it. And whatever Perry was hearing, Emily was sure to hear more. Not to mention her aunts, and through them the rest of the Murrays. 

Perry grimaced, and resolved to ask Emily about it when he saw her this weekend.

And yet, when he did ask her, in the warm sunlight of the New Moon garden, Emily was fairly relaxed about it all. “There’s no use plaguing ourselves over rumors,” she said with a shrug of her slim shoulders. “If you and I are fine with it, then I have no plans to worry myself over what other people think.”

Perry was almost tempted to ask if she was sure, but stopped himself. When Emily said a thing, that was it, and there was little point in pressing. He’d learned that lesson slowly, but he _had_ learned it. 

“Well, as long as you’re all right with it,” Perry conceded. “I’d hate to give up these visits,” Since Perry’s Aunt Tom died, there was little holding Perry to the old place, but he still liked to visit the New Moon farm, to see the first people who had agreed that he had potential, that he could be something, someday. 

Emily gave him her slow, warm smile, sweet as honey as she said, “I’d regret losing them too.” 

Perry grinned down at his feet. “So tell me what novel you’re writing now,” he said.

Emily lit up at the request; Perry’d had a notion she didn’t have many people to thrash out her writing with, with Mr. Carpenter gone and Dean Priest jilted and off somewhere abroad. Perry had given up on any notion of being able to keep up with Emily in the matter of writing, but he could at least ask intelligent questions, and Emily soon became absorbed in sketching out the characters to him, her slim pale hands moving through the air as she wove the tale together right in front of him. 

“It’s the heroine’s beau I can’t work out yet,” Emily confided as they slipped into Lofty John’s bush--well, Emily Starr’s bush now. “I have a notion of him as being very stalwart, very...upright and wholesome, but with a sly sort of humor too...and yet when I try to put him on the page, it all falls flat somehow. There’s no tension there. And I have no idea of what profession he has.”

“Make him a lawyer,” Perry joked. “At least then you’ll have me to offer facts to you.”

Emily snorted at this. “Perry Miller, consulting lawyer,” she said dryly, and then paused, her expression riveted at some inner thought. “Wait,” she said. 

Perry obligingly paused walking, then looked at her again and started to laugh. “Don’t tell me I gave you an idea for a story!”

“Hush, Perry,” Emily said, abstractedly; her eyes were lit up from within, her entire face aglow. The muse had arrived, Perry thought. Emily turned to him and demanded, “Do you have a notebook and pencil with you?”

Perry didn’t, though he did have that in the car. Emily immediately turned right around and marched in the direction of the house, where Perry’s new automobile was carefully parked, and Perry was left to follow in her heels, laughing and warning Emily that if his suggestion held, he wanted the book dedicated to him.

“Nothing fancy, mind, just a stanza or two dedicated to my brilliance,” Perry tossed over his shoulder, as he rummaged through the car and found the bit of pencil and small notebook he kept with him, and dropped them into Emily’s eager hands. 

Emily gave him a distracted thanks and slid right into the passenger seat, where she began madly scribbling out whatever idea had been sparked by Perry’s offhand suggestion. Finally, three or four pages later, she sighed in relief and looked up. “I’ve got the gist of it now,” Emily said happily, before pausing. “Though I might need to consult you over one or two details.”

Perry grinned, shamelessly, and just laughed when Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ll give you a discount on my usual fee.”

That was how Elizabeth Murray found them not a moment later, Perry chuckling as Emily made as though to throw the pencil at his head.

“I thought it was the two of you out here, cackling like wild hyenas,” she observed coolly.

Perry turned to look at her directly, and found himself helplessly straightening his shoulders, even though they were straight, and checking to make sure his hands weren’t in his pockets. They weren’t, of course, but he always would check, when faced with old Elizabeth Murray.

“I hope we didn’t disturb you, Aunt Elizabeth,” Emily said.

“Miss Murray,” Perry said respectfully, nodding his head. 

“Hello, Perry. You’re looking well.” She nodded at his automobile and said, “Are you staying the night at Blair Water, then?”

“No, unfortunately, I’ll be driving back to Charlottetown tonight.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll have supper with us before you leave.” That edict delivered, Miss Elizabeth looked him over again, from head to toe, her gaze as sharp as ever, before apparently deciding he was tolerable enough to pass without any more comment. She went back up to the house, and it wasn’t until she was out of earshot that Perry turned to Emily and asked, surprised, “Did you ask her to invite me to stay?”

“No,” Emily told him. 

Then an awful thought occurred to Perry. “Say, Emily, you don’t think—your aunts wouldn’t take any notice of the gossip flying around, would they?”

Emily’s eyes widened, but she protested, “Oh, Perry, that can’t be it—you know Aunt Elizabeth has as much respect for gossip as, as—“

“As she does for Stovepipe Town?” Perry offered, and was rewarded with one of Emily’s dry looks. 

But it all turned out fine, better than fine even. The food was as excellent as ever, Miss Laura was as sweetly welcoming to Perry as she’d always been, and he had a good time discussing the year’s harvest with Cousin Jimmy.

Miss Elizabeth’s assessing gaze never seemed to leave Perry as he sat at the table, but likely she just wanted to see for herself how he’d turned out, whether he’d learned the manners that Stovepipe Town had never given him. Well, Perry was confident enough to be sure he wasn’t letting his elbows on the table or slurping the soup, at least. 

There was even a nice moment, when they were discussing the latest reprint of Emily’s novel, that Perry mentioned keeping a copy of _The Moral of the Rose_ in his office, and Miss Elizabeth looked at him with something that could almost be called _approval._

Approval, from Elizabeth Murray! Really, Perry was probably imagining things. 

He tucked into his plate with a will, dismissing the thought, and thanked Miss Laura again for her cooking.

Miss Laura blushed with pleasure, but protested, “Oh, it’s just the same as it always is, but I do hope your landlady in Charlottetown is feeding you well.”

“Oh, Mrs. Brewer keeps a good table, and she’s a jewel of a woman, but it’s a rare cook that can match the spread you have here,” Perry said, and meant it.

The cooking was delicious, but Perry knew in his heart that it was the place that mattered; this house and the people in it, the closest thing to a real home that Perry had ever had. 

But that was too much sentiment, and he’d behaved too well in front of Miss Elizabeth to ruin his accounts now. 

He did say it to Emily, later, as they were saying their goodbyes at his car.

Emily’s smile was fond. “Why, Perry, that’s wonderful to hear. You could have said it to Aunt Laura and Cousin Jimmy, and even Aunt Elizabeth wouldn’t have minded hearing it, for all that she’d sniff. We’re all very proud of you, you know. Aunt Laura tells any number of people you’re the only lawyer worth consulting, and Aunt Elizabeth said to have you look over my contract with the new publisher in Boston, and where Elizabeth Murray deigns to approve, no king would dare to condemn!”

This set Perry to laughing, but as he looked at Emily, still smiling, but with a hint of shadows beneath her grey eyes, Perry impulsively said, “That’s all well and good, but you know it can’t compare to how proud they are of _you_. They’d have never paid attention to me in the beginning if you hadn’t, you know.”

“Pish,” Emily said. “Your brilliance was obvious, Perry, you just needed a chance to grow into it.”

“Well, you’re just as brilliant, even more so. And—I don’t mean to dwell, but I don’t know many who could handle—“ He was about to go on, but something in Emily’s face told him not to, so he swallowed and finished, “Anyway, you’re a brick, Emily Starr, and don’t you forget it.”

“How can I, with you to remind me?” Emily joked, but her expression wavered before she said, “And...Perry, thank you. Not just for that, but for...oh, for all of it. For visiting so often and writing me letters...I can’t speak of what your friendship’s meant to me, these last few months,” she finished, with a little catch in her voice, reaching out and pressing his hand.

Perry pressed it back and said, quietly, meaning every word, “You’re worth a dozen Teddy Kents, Emily.”

Emily’s mouth quivered, but she said, with a passing effort at a stiff upper lip, “You mustn’t think...I’m not pining away for him, not now he’s Ilse’s husband.”

“I don’t think that,” Perry said. “Just...you took an awful beating this past year. There’s no shame in licking your wounds for a while.”

“Even when those wounds are self-inflicted?” Emily asked, with a twisted attempt at a smile.

“Especially then,” Perry said forcefully. “And I don’t see how the whole affair was your fault to begin with. Any man worth his salt would’ve asked in person, let alone—“

But that would lead to rehashing the whole tangled affair, so Perry checked himself and said, “But you have nothing to reproach yourself with now. You’ve done the best you can, you have a career and a family bursting with pride over you, and the future’s only starting for you, Emily, I promise.”

Emily’s smile blossomed finally at that, radiant as ever, and Perry carried the glow of it with him through the long, winding drive back to Charlottetown.

And when he got the invitation to a supper dance at Shrewsbury, two weeks later, Perry decided to let the gossips be damned, and sent a note to Emily to ask if she’d be willing to accompany him.


End file.
